


frost on the parlour glass

by rhenna



Series: HP prompt drabbles [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Aged-Up Character(s), Drabble, F/M, Post-Canon, Sirius Black Lives, Snow, like a glaring age difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 17:05:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16268597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhenna/pseuds/rhenna
Summary: A cold winter's night, an attention to detail, and a lovely couch.This is post-canon, so Ginny is around 20 or so, and somehow Sirius is not dead because offanfiction magic.





	frost on the parlour glass

Ginny wrinkled her nose lightly, blinking open tired eyes and yawning hugely. Heavy warmth surrounded her though the windows showed frost -- icy white patterns lacing across the glass in sweeping arcs of fragile beauty. The winter was harsh this time of year, cases of red noses and pale, cold fingers running rampant through the whole hemisphere. But Ginny was well enough right now, a gentle reprieve from her family and school finding her in Number 12 Grimmauld Place, and somehow in the turn of events on Sirius' couch, said person's arm about her waist and her blouse conspicuously undone.

She turned her face to the side, freckled cheek brushing the dark hair on Sirius' other arm, small huff of carbon dioxide fogging the glass of his wristwatch, and--ah, that was where her bra had gotten to. Its cheery purple strap hung from Sirius' crooked, relaxed fingers. Her eyes slipped sideways, to the grandfather clock across the room, next to the morose-looking fireplace. Fifteen past seven in the evening, and it had yet to stop snowing, so the weather hand said. Sirius' breath stirred licks of her hair every half minute, oxygen stirring the fire evenly as he rested upon the blue and burgundy pillows. Stately colors for a presumptuous house, and far a presumptuous house for Sirius to contrast with.

It was actually cold, if Ginny concentrated enough to move past the Sirius's comforting heat pressed against her back, his leg thrown over her calves and arms carefully enfolding her. Her hipbone, for instance, jutting prettily from pale blue jeans tugged a few inches down, was chilled, and her ears were pinked from the wind freezing the glass of the windows and seeping inside the house. She curled back into Sirius little by little, nuzzling back under his chin where she could smell the floral residue of a scourgify on his shirt. She lost sight of the frost on the parlour window, exchanging the crystalline shapes on the glass for an up close view of blue velvet.

Sirius' arms tightened instinctively by a fraction, eyes sliding open slowly, the half-lidded blue and mussed black of his hair lending a look of sultry elegance to his sleepy face just as Ginny's eyelids drooped once more. He glanced down at her and smiled, though the weight of her head had caused his arm to fall asleep a while before, his hand tingling with pins and needles. He raised the arm he had slung around Ginny's middle, bringing it up to run his fingers through the long tangles of her hair gently. She woke again, but lay motionless, silently welling up with contentment.

"It's awfully cold out there," he intoned, voice heavy and soft like a down bedspread, a bit sleep-induced rust slipping in every syllable or two. "Fancy some hot chocolate?"


End file.
